The author remembers his grandmother in a few ways. He visits her grave and recounts to others the history of her people. He also visits each room of his grandmother's former home. As he walks through each room, he remembers her daily rituals and is cheered by his recollections.
In the kitchen, he remembers her standing over the woodstove and turning meat in an iron skillet on winter mornings. At the south window, he remembers that she used to sit there, engrossed in her beadwork. In her bedroom, he recalls how his grandmother used to make mournful, wailing prayers by her bed. The narrator also recollects that he never understood his grandmother's prayers; they were in the Kiowa tongue.
As he walks through the house, he recalls the many nocturnal feasts and prayer meetings there. In the summer, her house had always been a hive of activity. Now, there is only a funereal silence.
The narrator remembers his grandmother by recounting her history to others, paying his respects at her grave, and visiting every room in her former home.